


Help, I'm Alive

by kaibasetos



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 23:32:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8867650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaibasetos/pseuds/kaibasetos
Summary: Perhaps this is a kind of falling apart he hadn’t considered.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again, everyone! It's been far too long. Work and the holidays are consuming my life, as always -- I'm going to get about five hours of sleep thanks to this -- but I've been thinking about these two nonstop for like, weeks, so I had to get back to writing them eventually. This was vent writing of sorts, but it was inspired by three things: (1) a burning need to write somewhat tender JouKai, (2) a burning need to finally explore my headcanon of Kaiba having anxiety much like myself, and (3) [this art](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/CzoDQTTVIAAah4x.jpg) (source [here](http://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=36122141)). I'm not sure if I communicated exactly what I was going for, but in any case, I hope you all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Happy 30th Yu-Gi-Oh! fic! Have a wonderful day, everyone!

Kaiba stares at his reflection in the mirror, too bright and too sharp against a slanted backdrop of shadowed black. The light accentuates the dark circles under his eyes and he doesn’t recognize himself. His hands tremble where they grip the edges of the sink. The water splashed on his face sticks strands of hair to his forehead. He tries to breathe, but every deep breath begs his heart to palpitate in his chest, dropping and pounding in a rhythm that feels too acutely similar to death. Although he’s never minded the concept of death, the sensation of being on its doorstep makes his skin crawl. He grits his teeth so hard the headache building in the back of his skull turns to knives.

Forcefully he steps back, drying his hands and his face on autopilot before he exits the restroom. If anyone says anything to him as he stalks through the hallways of Kaiba Corp their words are nothing more than a dull monotonous roar, and whether or not he responds he can’t recall. The grey of his jacket billows out behind him like a cloud of smoke and blood rushes in his ears. In the silence of the elevator, he tries to compose himself. He hasn’t been like this in so long, but presentations always beckon the feeling and today's was particularly oppressive. The eyes of everyone in the room were cutting. He knows he delivered a believable performance of being composed and professional, but now that he’s alone with himself his mind wanders. He overanalyzes every miniscule action and replays the phrasing of every strategic sentence. He spirals. _Inadequate, a mockery, foolish to think they will ever see you as their equal._

By the time he steps off of the elevator and makes it to the door of his office he feels inches from falling apart. He wants to tear at his skin to escape the feeling. _Inadequate, weak, inadequate, weak._ He fumbles with sliding the locket around his neck through the keycard lock, nearly dropping it and barely catching it with the tips of his fingers. He feels the strain of something as simple as pushing open the door burning through every part of his body, exhausting. It’s so daunting to exist.

As the door falls shut behind him, he catches sight of a wild tangle of sunlight blond hair on the couch in his office. Jounouchi sits up and flashes him a grin that feels jarring. “Hey! That one ran long. Did it go well?”

Kaiba doesn’t even register the question. His chest tightens and on instinct his hands do the same, curling into fists. He can’t breathe. No one has ever seen him this way; no one but Mokuba, whose judgment he has never had to fear. He can’t let Jounouchi see him this way. _Weak, weak, weak_. _Rip yourself to shreds before someone else does it for you._

“What are you doing here, Jounouchi?” Every letter is careful and tight, strained around the edges. He tries so hard to keep it together. He wants to be alone. He needs to be alone. He feels tangled and trapped, treading water.

Jounouchi doesn’t seem fazed. He raises his eyebrows. “We were gonna go out for dinner after your meeting.” He tugs on the collar of his button-up as if to punctuate the statement. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”

Kaiba had. “I didn’t,” he forces out, followed immediately by, “you need to leave.”

Jounouchi’s brow knits in concern, and Kaiba’s heartbeat falters when he tries in vain to just breathe, to calm himself down. Jounouchi knows, but he can’t know. Kaiba starts to tremble, every inch of his body an uncomfortable electricity. He wants to disappear. _You let him in, and now he will see the worst in you. Nothing you can do to stop it._

“Something’s wrong,” Jounouchi says rather than asking, standing from the couch and dropping his phone. As he walks towards Kaiba, Kaiba involuntarily takes a step back, away, and Jounouchi pauses. His eyes are too clear, too intent. “Something’s really wrong. Kaiba, what’s going on?”

 _Everything is wrong_. Kaiba’s thoughts swim. He runs a hand over his face and clenches it into his hair, trying to keep himself from looking as desperately terrified as he feels. Everything is too loud and too much. He feels like a stranger in his own body. Jounouchi can’t see him like this, Jounouchi can’t know, Jounouchi can’t be here. Kaiba chokes. “Leave,” he repeats, and it sounds like more of a plea than a command.

“No,” Jounouchi responds immediately, and he takes another step forward. Kaiba raises his chin defiantly, but this does nothing to deter him. Jounouchi does not only close the distance between them, he invades Kaiba’s space, and Kaiba feels the tangible tension in the air suffocate him. He has to relax. This is Jounouchi. Jounouchi is worried about him. Jounouchi loves him.

That can’t be right. _Unlikable, unworthy, a monster._

“I’m not leavin’. Talk to me, Kaiba.”

Kaiba digs his nails into his palms and clenches his jaw. His chest shudders with the effort of breathing, stuttered harsh gasps. Tortured, haunted. He couldn’t answer even if he wanted to. _Don’t come closer. I will hurt you. All I do is hurt. All I am is wrong._ He feels prickling at the backs of his eyes and closes them hard, shaking his head.

“Don’t do this,” Jounouchi bargains with him, his voice gentler now. He steps closer again and with his eyes closed Kaiba can feel him so intensely, the warmth of him, the compassion of him. It’s dizzying. He bites down on his tongue on reflex, trying to keep himself steady. “Don’t close yourself off.”

“You,” Kaiba has to pause in the middle of the sentence to keep his voice from breaking, “would not understand.” _You, so vivid and full of life. You don’t deserve to understand._

“I don’t need to,” Jounouchi returns without hesitation. He reaches out, but he pauses with his hand hovering near Kaiba’s shoulder. He seems to mull the question over before he asks it, and the silence in between his words is alive, chaotic. “Can I touch you? Is that okay right now?”

Kaiba stiffens, quivering. He wants to say yes so badly it aches. He shouldn’t say yes. He doesn’t trust himself to open his eyes, to see the way Jounouchi must be looking at him right now -- a way he doesn’t deserve. He doesn’t let himself think about it. His nod is sharp and brisk, as though in rebellion.

Jounouchi takes Kaiba’s face in his hands, so slowly that the sensation alone could destroy him, lighting every nerve on fire. He’s so warm. He leans up and Kaiba inhales sharply as Jounouchi presses their foreheads together. He can feel Jounouchi’s breath against his lips and his fingers flex, his ribs wound tight with pressure, unsure if he wants to push him away or pull him in. The sentiment is too intimate, too delicate, it’s more than he should have. _A waste._

“Kaiba,” Jounouchi whispers, and then, as though his mouth was created solely for his tongue to roll off the syllables, “Seto. Look at me.”

The sound of his name, so deliberate, is what breaks him. As he opens his eyes he wraps his arms around Jounouchi in the same fluid motion, his fingers grasping at the back of Jounouchi’s shirt, forcing him near until they’re as close as they can be. The chaos of him finds a unifying melody within the kindness of Jounouchi’s gaze, the way fabric and muscle feels under his hands, the way it all brings him back down to reality. Something like relief catches in his throat. He knows Jounouchi can feel him shaking now, but he allows himself this, allows himself to need and to be selfish and to feel grounded for the first time in hours.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Jounouchi says simply, and he shifts, his mouth brushing Kaiba’s and sending a jolt racing down his spine. _Worthy, adequate, wanted._ His tone is low and breathy. “Will you let me kiss you?”

Kaiba's lack of self-control answers for him when he kisses Jounouchi instead, and the moment their lips meet he turns greedy, craving. He wants this. He wants to feel something. Jounouchi makes him feel everything. Jounouchi’s fingers curl against his cheek and his own find Jounouchi’s hair, tangle up in gold, dragging him in so roughly the kiss is almost painful. He can’t stop kissing him and he finds that with each time he does it’s easier, with every sigh Jounouchi exhales against him the tension in him loosens a little more, with Jounouchi’s tongue in his mouth he can’t think of anything but him. The contemptuous mantra of his mind picks up a repetition of Jounouchi’s name in its place, reverent and longing, and he revels in the wonderful echoes of it. Every strand of hair beneath his fingertips. Every heavy beat of Jounouchi’s pulse beneath him. Every hum of contentment that seems to rush in his own veins until he settles and softens.

His heart rate slows to match Jounouchi’s, and he can finally breathe again.

Perhaps this is a kind of falling apart he hadn’t considered.

When Jounouchi finally parts from him, he catches himself reaching out to chase the feeling. Jounouchi looks at him with a fondness he hadn’t considered possible, running his thumb idly over Kaiba’s cheekbone, and perhaps it is weak, perhaps it is monstrous, but he yearns for this love so much it could kill him. It would be the sweetest of murders.

“Alright now?” Jounouchi asks, tilting his head to the side.

Kaiba takes a moment to contemplate the question. He feels drained, weary, but alright? Yes. He supposes he can accept that. He nods again, cautious that his voice may betray him if he attempts to answer verbally. Jounouchi visibly brightens, and Kaiba can’t comprehend how he ended up so fortunate, what he has done so right in his life to warrant this.

Jounouchi wraps his arms around Kaiba’s shoulders and pulls him into a hug, laughing into the front of his shirt. “I guess we should order in, huh?”

So much care in so few words. Despite himself, Kaiba smiles.

Worthy, adequate, wanted, but most importantly, _loved_.


End file.
